I have wanted to be with you for so long. The dream of you diluting my days into perfunctory conversations and people and chores I could do without. But these autumn weeks have been strange. Changing my focus onto more pressing things, less wishing I were far away. The boy stood up today and recited his first poem. Someone I barely know hand-delivered a card with the sweetest words scrawled in blue. The sick girl fell asleep on my arm. And the woman I love above all else squeezed me tight and said Thank God you’re here, Thank God you’re
One would not, upon the stars, dream of placing a temporary condition of the heart; a means by which they could become fuller, more beautiful, more complete. Yet you, of stardust and stillness, made of the very same things, swill the air and the waves into chaos not knowing there is an eternal ocean beneath where all of your restlessness can have its moment and then pass, honoured but not believed. Be not afraid. Lay your tender heart open. All in nature is complete, and cannot be broken.
No matter how busy you are, there is always time to breathe, to be quiet and to regain your connection to the present moment. It’s a constant reminding, a constant re-focusing of your attention. And it isn’t always easy. You might only achieve it for a few seconds at a time at first, but that’s progress. It often feels easier to just let our minds run away with us and repeat those same old thoughts, stories and complaints over and over. Despite the fact that we are sick of them, there is something strangely comforting and familiar about indulging in